I am the sour fruit in the basket
That seems best fitted for a casket
I’ve seen the things of the young
Those same old songs I have sung
Many a night I was stuck in a low
Many a friend now I’m counting as foe
And though my vision and body dies
As never before I make use of my eyes
My ears, skin and even sense of smell
A worm in an apple, now I can tell
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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